


Stupid Ideas

by JeSuisLePomme



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, Hot Chocolate, Ice Skating, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSuisLePomme/pseuds/JeSuisLePomme
Summary: He got the text around noon. It was inconspicuous, a simple ‘busy?’ with an effortless lack of capitalization or hidden meaning. He didn’t respond to it until twelve thirty. ‘No.’ Just a single word typed out like it was the easiest thing in the world.





	

He got the text around noon. It was inconspicuous, a simple ‘busy?’ with an effortless lack of capitalization or hidden meaning. He didn’t respond to it until twelve thirty. ‘No.’ Just a single word typed out like it was the easiest thing in the world. He tried to ignore the sweat collecting at his hairline. ‘No,’ such a simple phrase. It showed up as read a short two minutes later and then that infamous little bubble appeared. It looked like Otabek was typing a short novel; Yuri waited breathlessly. Then the bubble disappeared, and nothing came.

Yuri clutched the device in his hand, staring intently at the screen for around fifty seconds before pitching it against the pillow on his bed and stalking off to the kitchen.

The screen was lit up when he returned, and he almost dropped the glass in his hand. Fortunately, it was able to make a safe touchdown on his nightstand as he clamored to retrieve his phone. The message said it was delivered a minute ago but surely he wasn’t in the kitchen that long. He quickly fumbled to punch in his four-digit passcode.

The message wasn’t as long as he initially thought it would be, about two full lines and a few words bleeding over onto the third. It was an invitation. To go skating. At a park. The park downtown where the Christmas tree was set up. Yuri blinked once, and then twice, and then replied. ‘Sure. Sounds good.’ Sent. Otabek read it.

 

The rink was full of Christmas spirit, warm and suffocating and festive. The tree was beautiful, a glistening testament to the season, and the rink was populated by happy families enjoying themselves and couples out on dates and maybe a few idle groups of teenagers just messing around. Yuri didn’t really see himself as any of those demographics, but more importantly, he didn’t see Otabek. Should he text him? He didn’t want to seem impatient.

He sat down on a relatively dry seeming bench, sliding the hair tie off his wrist and pulling up his hair. He had brushed it before he left his hotel room, for some strange, unusual reason, and he had even changed his shirt and put on a jacket other than his Russia jacket, but he had been feeling slightly more encouraged at the time. He tapped his foot, feeling stupid.

Otabek was probably coming. He said he was coming in his text earlier. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind, Yuri reminded himself. He frowned, huffing, and resting his chin in his palm and staring at the rink in front of him.

There were plenty of happy looking people there, all laughing and joking and having a good time. The faint sound of a Christmas song was playing over some speakers, and the tree was already lit, even though it was just past midday. Yuri scanned over the crowd of people, checking for Otabek one more time. That’s when he spotted them, a couple off towards the edge of the rink.

They were perfect, he decided from afar, like something from a movie. Their hands were grasped together in-between them. Suddenly, the man lifted up his hand, cupping her jaw gently and tipping up her face, and then he leaned in, and they kissed. The girl laughed into the kiss, lifting up her arms to toss them carelessly around her boyfriend’s neck. He moved his hands down to rest them on either side of her waist, a smile playing at his occupied lips. Yuri’s face heated when he realized he was staring, throwing his eyes down toward the snow-dusted ground. He looked around for Otabek again.

It had been ten minutes since he first arrived.

 

He waited fifteen minutes total, before he checked his phone and the vicinity one last time, stood up, and started walking off. It wasn’t worth waiting. Otabek probably changed his mind. Otabek probably had better things to do. They were ice-skaters, for God’s sake. Why would they go skating in their free time? Well, that was something Yuri did, but Otabek, again, probably had better things to do. He probably got held up with some other friend, or found something to watch on the television that was more interesting than Yuri.

Yuri scoffed, kicking at the snow on the sidewalk as he trudged back towards the hotel. It was a stupid idea to even agree to. It was a stupid idea to do his hair. It was a stupid idea to change his jacket. It was a stupid idea to think Otabek didn’t have anything better to do. His brows furrowed almost involuntarily, and he stopped, standing in the middle of the sidewalk. People walked around him, either irritated or uncaring. The faint sound of Christmas music still echoed through the air. He missed his grandpa. His vision blurred. Was it tears that were collecting in his eyes? 

“Yura?” A familiar voice broke through the symphony of life, clear and welcome. He flipped around, a familiar figure dressed in black weaving past the crowd, not quite frantically, but a little quicker than usual.

“Beka?” he replied. Blinking didn’t help dissipate the water blurring his sight, until clarity returned very suddenly, and Otabek was right in front of him. He looked hassled. His hair had been slicked back before, but little pieces were falling loose, and his face was stained pink, chest heaving like he had been hurrying. His warm breath was visible in the cold air, coming in sizable puffs.

“I-” Otabek started, before clearing his throat. “My coach. He called. When I got there- I’m glad I caught up.”

“Oh.”

“Do you still- do you still want to try and- and do something?” His words were cautious, but not planned. It seemed like he might have had something planned, but it had definitely gone out the window, if the stuttered phrases and restarts were anything to go by. Yuri realized he wasn’t responding; he started, nodding and shaking his head at the same time.

“I- Sure. I mean; I’m not sure if it’s a great idea. You seem busy.” His words seemed to puncture Otabek, and he deflated like a pricked balloon. “Well. Okay. We can, if you want. But- but don’t blame me if you get in trouble with your coach.” He puffed out his cheeks, shoving his hands in his pockets. He had never seen someone light up quite so much without smiling.

 

They went back to the rink, and rented skates. They both owned skates, of course. Neither of them brought said skates, or were even sure if said skates were allowed at the public rink. The ice was a little rougher than either of them were used to, and it wasn’t long before the cold, winter air, chilling as afternoon progressed into evening, started to numb the tips of their noses and color their cheeks.

Yuri watched as Otabek almost fell. Almost. He laughed, and he had never seen someone light up quite so much _while_ smiling. The two of them glided over to the edge of the rink, stepping off onto the concrete gently and walking over to the bench. Then, Otabek seemed to notice something off to the side, and Yuri noticed that he noticed, glancing over questioningly.

“Do you- they have hot chocolate,” Otabek informed him. “Would Yakov care? It would be my treat. If you want some. If you like hot chocolate.” Yuri blinked.

“I- sure. I like hot chocolate.”

“My treat.”

“Yeah. You better believe it. I- I’m making you keep your word on this one.” Otabek smiled at him softly, and Yuri blushed for some unknowable reason, standing up and walking off to return his skates. The other skater followed after him.

 

It was kind of like a date. Yuri quickly shoved the thought away, eyeing Otabek skeptically from over the edge of his Styrofoam hot chocolate cup. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t like a date. He thought back to the teenagers messing around on the ice; him and Otabek were like that, definitely not like the couple he saw kissing in their own little world, faces lit up by the warm glow of the Christmas tree and sharing warmth huddled together in a romantic, standing embrace.

He remembered the way the man cupped his girlfriend’s cheek. Would Otabek’s hands be soft or calloused? Yuri glanced at them discreetly. Then he tried, once again, to push away his thoughts. They were friends; they were having fun going skating as friends, like two regular teenagers. Well, they could skate better than regular teenagers, but that was regardless. Yuri’s face heated when he realized he staring, taking a long sip of his drink as he redirected his attention to the ice. It didn’t seem like Otabek had noticed.

“So. Do you have plans for dinner?” His thoughts were interrupted. He snapped his head up to look at Otabek, who was staring at him. Plans for dinner? Well, he had planned on eating the leftovers in the Styrofoam container in the mini-fridge in his hotel room, probably cold, while watching some kind of trashy romance show on the television alone, all while wishing his cat was there to keep him company and that he had heated the leftovers. Did that count as plans?

“No.”

“Oh. Well. Did you want- did you want to make some plans, maybe?” Otabek asked.

“What?”

“With- with me?”

“Oh.”

“You’re probably cold, though. We could go back to the hotel and change and then maybe we could go get something to eat. You know, just like- like a casual dinner, yeah?” Otabek said quickly, like he was trying to rectify some mistake.

“Sounds- yeah, that’s good.” They tossed the empty foam cups and started walking back to the hotel.

 

Yuri couldn’t decide what to put on. He didn’t really need to change his shirt; his jacket had blocked most of the snow, but it felt sort of like a second chance. He had already pulled down his hair, brushing it quickly because he didn’t want to keep Otabek waiting, before walking over to his suitcase and completely freezing while staring down at it for around five minutes. He had plenty of sweaters, but maybe that was too dressy. He didn’t want Otabek to think he thought it was more than it was. Otabek had said a ‘casual’ dinner. Yuri wanted to scream.

After most of his suitcase’s contents were emptied out on his bed, he decided to just wear a sweater. It was cold. It was snowing. It was perfectly acceptable to wear a sweater when it was cold and snowing, and it definitely didn’t mean he was dressing up for no reason. He decided on a red sweater, simple and understated, and he decided that he was most certainly overthinking everything. What did it matter, anyway?

He never put that much thought into what he wore when someone else dragged him out to dinner. He told himself it was just because he didn’t want to be cold and that his face was so hot because all the blood was rushing there while he was bent over to tie up his shoes. He left the hotel room, pulling out his phone determinedly and texting Otabek that he was ready to go. They met up in the lobby before taking off into the snow.

 

They went to a little café in a residential part of town. It was quiet and comfortable, one of those places that felt nice but wasn’t ridiculously expensive. As they waited for their food, Yuri found his nerves dissipating, and it was a strange feeling. It was like a weight was lifting off his shoulder, and he could breathe again, and he realized it had been a while since he felt that way. He felt a little lightheaded when he laughed, and it felt alien to smile quite so much, but it felt nice. Otabek also seemed to ease into a sort of amiable lull. He was halfway through a story when he froze, trailing off and blinking as he looked somewhere over Yuri’s shoulder and out the window behind him. Yuri furrowed his brow.

“Beka?” he questioned. “Then what?”

“Victor… and Yuuri,” Otabek replied simply, gesturing with head out the window. Yuri spun around, looking out the window. Victor and Yuuri were walking down the sidewalk across the street, fingers intertwined snugly between them. They didn’t seem to notice them. Yuri felt like his face caught fire.

“Yeah, so?” he said bluntly. He didn’t really want to think about Victor or Yuuri, but definitely not Victor _and_ Yuuri. Otabek shrugged.

“I- I don’t know,” he said. “They seem happy.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Their food came, a pleasant distraction from the couple out in the cold. Otabek continued his story, and Yuri almost forgot about ever seeing them.

“Do you ever think about- well, about relationships or whatever?” Otabek asked suddenly as they were finishing up their dinner. The conversation had met a dead end; not an uncomfortable dead end, but a dead end nonetheless. Yuri froze at his comment, spoon of soup hovering near his mouth. He tried not to think about that sort of thing. Otabek continued. “It feels so hard, sometime.”

“It… is,” Yuri replied, sipping his soup slowly. Otabek changed the subject again. Yuri insisted on paying. His treat.

They parted ways in the elevator. Yuri was on a different floor than Otabek, so it made sense. As the doors were sliding closed, Otabek said he had ‘fun,’ and Yuri was left standing in the hallway processing his words. ‘Fun.’ Yuri had had fun too, and he wondered if he made a grave mistake in not responding. Before he could regret it, he pulled out his phone and texted Otabek.

‘Me too. We should do it again sometime.’ Otabek read it a minute later. He didn’t respond. Yuri went back to his room to watch TV.

 

His phone dinged at one forty-five, lighting up the ceiling of his hotel with a blue light. He blinked out a light, restless sleep, mind processing what the glow illuminating the spackle ceiling meant. His hand groped sleepily for the phone, pulling it out in front of him to see what was the matter. He was much more awake when he saw that it was a text from Otabek.

He quickly unlocked his phone, eyes scanning over the message. Otabek wanted him to come down to the lobby. His text said that he had something important to tell him. The phone was dropped back onto the nightstand as Yuri pushed away his bedsheets, standing up on the somehow-cold carpet. He pulled on some sweatpants, sliding his phone and his hotel key into the pockets and shoving his feet down in his shoes. It was almost two o’clock in the morning; why was he bothering? He glanced back down at his phone.

‘Okay.’

 

Otabek was standing awkwardly by the elevator, dressed in flannel pants and a t-shirt and looking uncomfortable. Yuri stopped after he stepped out, looking at him in silence. Otabek cleared his throat, gesturing wordlessly that they should move somewhere else in the lobby. They walked over to a pair of chairs tucked away in a corner.

“Sorry about waking you up,” Otabek said, sitting down stiffly. Yuri sat down in the other.

“I fly out in the morning,” he said. “But it’s alright. I- I never sleep good in hotels anyway.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me too.” They fell into an uneasy silence.

“What were you going to tell me?” Yuri asked, starting to feel a little miffed. His flight was early in the morning, and he was tired. Like he had said, he never slept well in hotels. It had been a long week. He quickly checked himself; Otabek and him were friends. You weren’t supposed get short with your friends.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I just wanted to tell you- I wanted to say that I like you!” Otabek announced quickly, hands clutching the arm of his chair. Yuri blinked.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he retorted. “I like you too. That’s why- that’s why we’re friends, right?”

“But- I like you more than… that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yuri barked out. And then he froze. More than… friends? Otabek liked him as more than a friend? “Oh.” Otabek’s face had turned bright red, embarrassment flushing his cheeks and nose and ears.

“I-” he trailed off, clearing his throat again and looking down at the patterned carpet. Yuri swallowed. Friends was a foreign territory, but ‘more-than-friends’ was completely uncharted. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

“Oh,” he said again.

“I’m sorry, Yura,” Otabek said quickly, making to stand. “I’ll go. I hope you have a good fli-”

“Wait. Stop.” Yuri grabbed his sleeve. “I’m not mad. I’m… glad.” He stopped, wondering why exactly he felt so light-headed all of a sudden. Otabek turned, face still flushed. He sat back down.

 

Yuri only had about thirty minutes to pack once he got back to his room, throwing stuff in his suitcase hazardously, before being swept off by Mila. She was pulling him out the front door when a familiar voice broke through the white noise of the lobby.

“Yura!” He stopped, breaking free of Mila, and turned to see Otabek hurrying towards him.

“Beka? Hey. Mila. Give me a minute,” he said, turning around and shoving his hands in his pockets. Mila looked skeptical, but she nodded anyway and left. “Hey, Beka.” He walked the rest of the distance to his friend. Yuri’s face turned red when he realized that ‘friend’ might not be the most appropriate descriptor anymore.

“Yura. I’m glad I caught up to you. Um. I wanted to… see you off,” Otabek said stiffly. “Damn. I wish we had more time.”

“Me too.”

“Well. I hope you have a good flight.”

“Eh. Flights are never good.”

Otabek laughed. “Okay, Yura.” He reached out his hand, capturing Yuri’s fingers in his own. He was looking down at it awkwardly, gently wrapping his fingers around Yuri’s and then pausing, like he was savoring the moment. “You have to skype me.”

“We skyped before,” Yuri retorted, and it was true. “But I will. Every day, if you want.”

“I hope this isn’t a stupid idea,” Otabek muttered, gently squeezing his fingers around Yuri’s. “Long-distance stuff-”   

“When you were late yesterday, I thought agreeing to go to the rink was a stupid idea,” Yuri cut him off. “But now I think it was a really good idea, actually. I don’t know. I’ll skype you, though. We can go on a… skype date. And we can still text.”

“We never got to go on a real date,” Otabek stated grimly. “I’m sorry.” Yuri laughed.

“You’re a stupid idea.”

“What?” Otabek furrowed his brows, looking confused. Yuri moved before he could regret it, throwing his arms around Otabek’s middle in a tight hug, burying his forehead against Otabek’s neck. They had hugged before, but this time, it felt different. Warmer. Closer. Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri’s torso, humming slightly against his ear.

“I’ll see you soon, Beka,” Yuri said quietly, so only Otabek could hear.

“I hope so, Yura.”

His flight took off at nine.

 

“Merry Christmas, Beka.”

“Merry Christmas, Yura.” Yuri smiled, and Otabek smiled back. The image on his laptop was grainy, and it buffered a little, but it was more than enough. Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid idea after all.  

 

     

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave any comments below!


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